


McCoy tried, too

by TFALokiwriter



Series: The trying of Spones [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Impressions, First Meetings, Ghost!Jim, Humor, M/M, Starbase Yorktown, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, That is my goal, feels probably, getting to know each other again, hopefully, i just know that i must get this story to end with spones, i know he will, is likely to appear, maybe I don't know, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: McCoy is assigned to the Starbase Yorktown as a doctor. It's annoying that he doesn't remember how the five year mission went. Let alone the years afterwards. Science and Vulcan Healers had done their best. No sign of the memories coming back. And the first time he does feel familiarity is when he meets a certain Vulcan.





	1. Chapter 1

"Doctor McCoy!" Charlene called.

McCoy turned from the counter raising an slanted eyebrow at Charlene.

"Masters," McCoy said, as he warmly greeted her. "That is your last name. . ." he grew a concerned expression. "right?"

"Yes,"  Charlene said. Charlene Masters used to be a lieutenant aboard the Enterprise. She had been the first people he came across on the Yorktown, but, as a commander. She was the first person that he met on the starbase. It looked like a fragile snowball in space. he had her arm wrapped around the little boy's shoulder. He had lighter skin than his black mother who had short curly hair. She was in science uniform. "This is Mikey," her hands placed onto the boy's shoulder. "I think he may have swallowed a minipad."

McCoy lowered himself down to the boy's level.

"Now, did ya?" McCoy asked.

Mikey shook his head.

"Come on," McCoy said. "we all do it."

Mikey lowered his head.

"What's your minipad ID?" McCoy asked.

"T'Omaha," Mikey said, in a small voice.

"T'Omaha?" McCoy repeated, raising his slanted eyebrows. "the crime fighting detective from the 21st century?"

"Uh huh. . ." Mikey said.

"That is cool," McCoy said, tapping on the screen of his padd. He was skeptical that a grown child could swallow a minipad because it was smaller than the average padd and how does one do that, anyway? Never mind the people who are incredibly skilled balancing swords in their throats. Music came from the boy's belly. Mikey bobbed his had to the music. McCoy raised his eyebrow in sheer amusement  then lowered it looking up toward Charlene, then turned his head in the direction of the boy, rubbing the side of his cheek, "you are goin' to need surgery to remove that.  Don't know how your intestines is allowing that to happen."

"Sheerie deerie heerie Weerie," Mikey sang along. McCoy stood up to the woman's level.

"He swallowed a minipad," McCoy jotted down on the screen. "I just sent a recommendation to a friend of mine, Doctor Nambue---"

"Oh," Charlene said. "he recommended me to you."

"Nammy didn't see the kid?" McCoy asked.

"No," Charlene said. McCoy sighed.

"Look, didn't I say. . . Don't run to me all the time as a doctor?" McCoy said. "I am not the kids doctor."

"But he trusts you," Charlene said, as McCoy changed the song to the one that was playing off the speakers.

"He will trust Nammy to get it out," McCoy said. "Just because I have problems with first name basis doesn't mean I am a reliable doctor to come to every time your son does something ridiculous," Charlene nodded her head in agreement. "I am not assigned to the child part of this hospital."

"I understand," Charlene said. "is your afternoon still open for the match?"

"I wouldn't miss tennis for the world," McCoy said, giving a  smile as he bounced.

"Goodbye, Doctor," Charlene said.

"Bye doc," Mikey said.

"Don't swallow another mini-pad," McCoy warned.

"I will try," Mikey said.

"No," Charlene said. "you will do as he said." as the two went past him.

It had been a little over a year since he recovered from his suicide mission. At least that is what he called it because he had no idea why he did it at all. Nyota refused to talk about it. He had his toes brought back from the edge of amputation. His knuckles restored to their healthy appearance, his fingers put back together, and his legs were given the repairment treatment. His once brown hair was graying. When he first woke up on the Enterprise, he didn't recognize the older man in the mirror at first. Bags under his eyes. New wrinkles here and there on his face. No black eyeliner. McCoy had been given a cure for what he had done to himself but some parts of him hadn't changed such as the pointy ears and slanted eyebrows. He had a internal human biology. His brain was psi-positive. His skin sensitive. He could hear the thoughts of others when they brushed past him. It had been a difficult time adjusting to that. Not wanting to turning around and shout, "Don't do that!". He wasn't a Vulcan but it left him changed.

It was a pain in the ass to have this psychic part.

"Doctor McCoy," Harriet said, from behind the counter. "you have a patient in room 67."

"Sixty-seven?" McCoy said, turning back toward the woman. "Are you sure about that?"

"Pretty sure," Harriet said.

"I don't get that room often," McCoy said. "Nammy usually gets it."

"You have been spoiled rotten," Harriet said. McCoy smiled back.

"Sure I have," McCoy said, with a nod. "I will check them out."

McCoy went past the counter.

Room 67, the same number that he started as a chief medical officer for the USS Enterprise. Stardate 2267, on a Tuesday. The very same one he didn't recall a single day serving. He took the padd with him. Many of the staff members fondly referred to Nambue as Nammy because how narmy he was when it came to being a doctor in the operating room. McCoy felt it was the cheesiest performance. He wanted it to compare to another doctor he knew, because he couldn't. He didn't remember. That was the point of his memory loss. The Vulcan healers had taken care of repairing his mind to the point that he remembered moments before he stepped onto the transporter padd.

McCoy whistled to himself.

The ghost of James? John? Jake? Joan? 

He hadn't visited McCoy in a year, at most, that he could recall.

Living alone, there was a certain void. Empty. There was something or someone missing from his life. He recalled the conversation with the man. He didn't know why he couldn't recall the memory that he had dug up. Did they come after his intimate memories? Destroy them? Neurologically, that could be possible to block the memories from being reached. He remembered telling the man that he loved him. He remembered being in the man's arms falling asleep on the green grass. He didn't remember what they did inbetween. He didn't remember. It was like scenes being skipped unexpectedly in his memory.

The door slid open before McCoy.

"Good mornin'," McCoy said, looking down at the file that had reached his padd.

"Greetings," a deep, beautiful voice replied.

"Why that is a beautiful voice ya got there," McCoy looked up in the direction of the source of the voice feeling his world freeze all around him. He recognized him but the name didn't come up to his conscience. It was at the tip of his tongue but the word refused to come out. McCoy noticed the Vulcan male had two cuts along his cheeks. Many small cuts that broken glass would normally make. He noticed the man was in a unique type of outfit consisting of a black skin suit with long sleeves. The biobed screens were erratic. The sound was put on mute. "ya got a name?"

The Vulcan stared back at him, unflinching, emotionless.

". . . Oh right, Vulcan or your 'chosen name'," McCoy said. "I am your doctor."

"Doctor McCoy," The Vulcan said.

"At your service," McCoy said, with a nod. "you can tell me your last name."

"Why?" The Vulcan asked.

"I have trouble with my memory regardin' first memory," McCoy said, with a shrug. McCoy could feel an icy pair of hands on his shoulders-that-were-not-there-but-shit-he-can-hear-thoughts-screaming-at-him-the-word-BONES-IT'S-SO-GOOD-TO-SEE-YOU-AGAIN.

"Grayson, Harold Grayson," Grayson said. The icy hands let go of his shoulders. "That is my human name."

"And you don't got a Vulcan name?" McCoy asked.

"It was a lifetime ago,"  Grayson said, as McCoy raised an eyebrow going to the counter then sliding out a drawer. "you are joining the 'human name' movement?"

"No," McCoy said. "born a human. Screwed myself up just to save others." He looked over in the direction of the man sharing a eye roll.  "Quite illogical, don't ya think?"  Grayson nodded. He took out a dermal regenerator then a pair of gloves. He put the gloves on first. "Yes, I figured that, wish I knew _why_ I did it." McCoy paused, almost seeing him in science blue and wearing--- "Are you wearing eyeliner?"

"Negative," Grayson said.

"Say," McCoy said, putting the padd onto the table. "you remind me of someone."

"That is inconvenient," Grayson said.

"You have no idea," McCoy agreed. "now sit still."

The doctor sat onto a foot stool alongside the biobed. He turned on the dermal regenerator. McCoy carefully sealed away the cuts on the man's face while humming a familiar song to himself. It was familiar to him. Something that he listened to while studying at the university of Mississippi. McCoy had one hand on the man's shoulder hearing the man's thoughts that were more of math problems. McCoy sensed there were other wounds on the man's body. McCoy leaned away then moved the man's sleeves up seeing the green blood seeping out. McCoy resumed the repairs. McCoy could not sense any other injuries but there was a faint bruise developing at the chest.  Grayson rolled down his sleeves. McCoy wheeled himself over to the counter and jotted down on the screen.

"Is that all?" Grayson asked.

"Unless you have cuts on your abdomen," McCoy said. "I do not think so."

Grayson started to get up.

"Though, that isn't your name," McCoy said. Grayson paused half-way off the bio-bed. "you feel like a man of science to me." Grayson turned his head in the direction of the doctor with curiosity in his eyes. "and . . . I don't normally pay attention to the political news, black listed them, care to tell me why you are a bounty hunter?"

"I was court martialed," Grayson said, getting off the biobed. "and dishonorable discharged."

"At least you know why you are this way," McCoy said, shaking his head taking off the gloves.

"I have recently started this occupation, doctor," Grayson said.

"At least it pays enough credits for you," McCoy said.

"And for my adopted daughter," Grayson said.

"She must be thrilled," McCoy said, dumping the gloves into the dispensary.

"She is," Grayson said. McCoy made his way to the door. "this starbase has several fugitives in hiding and you may see my attempts to apprehend them in  this hospital."

McCoy turned away from the door.

"How do you logic out huntin' people like animals?" McCoy asked, going over taking the padd with him. 

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one," Grayson said.

"Is that what makes it easier for you to sleep at night?" McCoy said.

"Affirmative," Grayson said.

"Ah huh," McCoy said. "I will see you around .  . . . Harry? Henry? Hank?"

"Call me Grayson," Grayson said.

"All right," McCoy said. "See ya around, Mr Grayson." McCoy nodded with a polite smile then made his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boldly going where no Spones fan has likely gone before. Don't think anyone done this.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey McCray!" Nambue greeted McCoy at the locker room.

"Nammy," McCoy said.

"So I was thinking--" Nambue started to say but was cut off by McCoy.

"No," McCoy interjected.

"But you didn't hear the first of it," Nambue said, as McCoy put on a light blue shirt.

"I had to drag your ass out of a bar fight with a Gangorian," McCoy said, buttoning the shirt up.

"That is not fair, that was nothing compare to this idea," Nambue said. "you are discriminating my ideas."

"How am  I discriminatin' your ideas?" McCoy asked. "they are stupid."

"Because they are fun," Nambue said.

"Fun to you, annoyin' to me," McCoy said.

"True, true, true,"  Nambue said.

"You see my problem regardin' you and your ideas?" McCoy asked.

"You have to save my ass," Nambue said.

"Every time," McCoy said.

"Hey, serving aboard the USS Shenzhou is different to this!" Nambue said. "I get to have actual, reasonable bar fights."

"Doctor," McCoy warned. "You fought with Klingons."

"That was only once," Nambue said. "and I regret it." He shook his hands leaning against his locket. "That  was not for shits and giggles." McCoy rolled an eye changing into his jeans.  He dumped his clothes into the small laundry hole in his locker. "You understand, that right?"

"Sure," McCoy said. "it is not like the federation will become allies with Klingons and you get to meet them again."

"I am sure that we won't meet again," Nambue said. "but that would be hilarious."

"Hilarious?" McCoy said. "it would be the clash of the titans with two old men and it would not end well."

"Catastrophic," Nambue said. "but insanely epic." he then gave his best deep voice impression, "only one will live and one will die."

"You are insane, man,"  McCoy said, shaking his head while he rolled an eye. Nambue smiled from ear to ear.

"Don't I know it,"  Nambue said. "say, got any memory falling through?" he twirled his finger. "just giving a straight up random miracle that should not happen according to those healers?"

"Only one," McCoy said. "well . . . I would not consider it a memory."

"What what what what what was it?" and suddenly Nambue was a over-excited fangirl. His brown eyes wide at the mention. His face clean shaved but there were bags under his eyes. Once upon a time he used to be younger than McCoy, but now, he was in his sixties and still going strong. He had bushy eyebrows that were thinning out. His hair gradually turning a shade of gray but he looked like a man in his fifties. He preferred not to use the colorizer as it would make him look younger. He preferred to stick with what he appeared  now.

"Just a Vulcan in eyeliner and science uniform," McCoy said. "nothin' big."

"McCray," Nambue gasped. "that is huge."

"No, it isn't," McCoy argued back. "there is probably a science officer like him, with that exact appearance, out in space."

"Uh huh," Nambue said. "not all Vulcans look alike."

"Not all Klingons have flat foreheads," McCoy said. Nambue had a look of shock and surprise on his face as though he thought the man had remembered even more. It was replaced by joy. "We had a Klingon defector in here last week."

"You got my hopes up for you, again," Nambue said, dramatically.

"Or it's the same Vulcan who happens to be on the same starbase as I am,"McCoy said. "Which I doubt--" He held his hand out with furrowed eyebrows. "Don't you dare tell me his real name."

"Fine," Nambue said. "I don't get why Vulcans are on the human name bandwagon. Their names are more beautiful than ours." He earned a eyebrow raise from his co-worker.

"And yours isn't?" McCoy asked.

"I prefer not to use it," Nambue said.

"But you still have not changed your first name," McCoy pointed out.

"It is complicated," Nambue said.

"Okay, complicated my ass," McCoy shut the door once taking out his brown, warm jacket. "It's a start. . ." the doctor briefly paused.  "Is it not?" He looked over toward Nambue with his eyes bright. "Rememberin'."

"It is, Leonard," Nambue said, proudly, with a nod as he patted the man's shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

McCoy bolted up from his bed, shouting "No!". His gray shirt was dripping in sweat while soaked against his skin. McCoy panted, gathering his composure. McCoy's skin felt wet. His shorts were wet, too. McCoy gingerly slid his shirt off. Then he leaned on the side of the bed. He was faced with nightmares instead of memories. He rubbed his forehead leaning forward. All he could remember from the dream was pain. So much pain. There were also. . . Figures. Voices. Blurred faces. Voices, again. There was one name that stood out in particular. Mallard. Mallard felt like a last name.

McCoy felt tears coming to his eyes.

Did he know this person?

Perhaps, in the past, he had known.

"If gettin' my memory back comes with nightmares, forget it," McCoy said.

McCoy put the wet shirt into the laundry dispensary. He took off his  shorts putting them into the laundry box then pressed a button. He took out the padd from the drawer alongside the bed. The screen was bright. McCoy's hand went to the side then pressed the dim star option lowering the brightness to a acceptable level. He had a message from Sulu. He opened it up to see a message on the screen in white text. They had apparently came across a unusual ship that was made of different parts and looked like a octopus like dragon not from this world. Apparently, they found  somewhere around fifty Romulans inside the ship. The commander of the ship, was however, much easier to subdue by security officers as he was so 'narmy'. Calling himself a proud Romulan who would go on to cripple Star Fleet by destroying Vulcan with what the Ambassador had tried to neutralize a sun about to go supernova. Vulcan was still intact. He didn't elaborate the name of this 'ambassador'. He didn't look Romulan but he had the physiology of a human. His ears were rounded than pointy.  It sounded like the man had been tortured due to the state that Hikaru had described them. As though they had healed over.

The Romulan's crew called him: Nero.

As he read, the names jumbled together and he forgot who was who and who Hikaru was referring to. It was like a mess of words that didn't make sense to him. McCoy dropped the padd onto the counter in annoyance. The laundry dispensary made a ding sound. McCoy got up from the bed then put on his gray shirt and black shorts. He looked over to see the alarm clock indicated that it was 2:46 AM. He fell back onto the bed  face first then had a groan. He slid completely onto the bed landing himself into the self made mess of blankets. He couldn't live like this. Losing track of who was who. He had to weather through the nightmares. He was going to remember and get past this. He reached over grabbing a pillow from behind himself then put it onto his face and screamed into it. 

He took it off his face and put it behind his head. McCoy went back then picked up the padd and rolled himself back onto the pillow his head had been resting. He was getting a headache from this. He had to read how they were handling the situation. It was amusing to read Chekov dialogue. It was a long message just like they usually were when it came it came to one of the command crew giving him a heads up on how they were doing. McCoy suspected they took turns on who sent the long ass message. It was like he was reading a novel only it was condensed for his sake by listing rank and last name. Highly descriptive. He could feel like he was there watching it all occur. The Enterprise suffered considerable damage due to the short lived fight with the Romulan vessel. A Trojan was uploaded to the unusual vessel and immediately shut down its weapon systems.

By the time he was done reading, it was 4:57  AM.

Of course, that all came from reading it over and over again just to be sure that he read it right.

_Dear Sulu:_

_You and the others should turn this shift of sending me updates of how you are doing into a novel. And it sounds like your newcomer must be from a alternate timeline or a another universe. He is very . . . unsettling. I am glad that you and Captain Decker were able to handle the situation. If I had been there it would have been terrifying. And I don't know if I could allow a Romulan who threatened a planet to be sent there. Isn't that dangerous? Sounds like he needs to be locked away with key to a maximum security panel colony. Five crewmen lost because of that senseless attack. And what ever that . . . oh wait, it's a minery ship. I nearly forgot that. You sure that it is going to be towed over to the navy ship yard? I feel like we shouldn't bother with technology that is not from our time. It is highly. . . disturbing.  You could be changing the future. Or the past for that matter. Because it is not from our time. From what  I can see from your reply, there isn't any word regarding it._

_I am glad that you and Pak are talking, again._

_Hate to read that two compatible men drifting apart because of a marine biology argument._

_Sincerely, McCoy._

McCoy paused, staring down at the screen, once the standard mail pop up appeared. Should he tell Uhura regarding his new progress? Nah, she is probably enjoying a nice hour of relaxation with Chapel. Or they are still sleeping. Is not even five yet. He looked back at the time. it was nearly five. He hadn't showered. He rubbed his forehead with a sigh. He got back up then placed the padd onto the counter. He had waned his night away  noticing the artificial representation of daylight was coming on. The darkness was replaced by a clear light blue light. If only regaining his memories was like that.  He picked his attire for the day then went into the bathroom. 


	4. Chapter 4

Arnold and James had blue eyes. They were, remarkably, young men in their mid-thirties. They looked strikingly alike. Sometimes they were called the Wonder Twins. They were cadets enrolled in the academy but were currently on vacation. One was a tall, muscular and athletic man. That was Arnold. James had a bulge to him with thin eyebrows unlike Arnold. They were majoring in the medical track studying xenobiology. Being the grandsons of a well known, but tragic captain was disheartening. Is that all how people would know them? The Scalosian/Human hybrids? They had minor differences with humans as they could stand radiation. Arnold was more of a scientist than a healer and he was currently sitting down at a bench, wearing a pair of glasses, observing  tricorder. 

"Like it, Arnie?" James asked, sitting down alongside his brother drinking a smoothie.

Arnold leaped from his chair.

"Stop it, Jimothy!"  Arnold said.

James rolled an eye.

"You get a crack out of it too," James said, dancing his eyebrows.

"No, I don't," Arnold said. James sighed, lowering the smoothie. 

"You are in a sour mood that we found the wrong hospital," James said.

"Yes," Arnold said. "I can't believe you made us go to the wrong train station."

"Me?" James asked. "We went in the direction the instructions indicated."

"I wasn't the one who distracted me," Arnold said. "we went the wrong way,"

"Okay, we did go the wrong way," James said. "and to the wrong hospital."

"I really do not think we will ever meet that man," Arnold said. "or his right hand man, his consort."

"I heard that he was married to him," James said.

"They were heavily fond with each other," Arnold said. "compared to the many stories that . . ." he paused. "well, they are just stories," he shrugged. "they might not be accurate."

"That is the least of our worries," James said. He looked down in the direction of the tricorder then back in the direction of his brother. "Is that the new model or the old model?"

"New model," Arnold said.

"Say. . ." James said. "You are not reconsidering going into the science track?"

"It is quite a interesting track," Arnold said. "science." He slid his glasses up. "I did concoct the cure to bring everyone to speed without dying," his glasses slid down onto his nose. "Including be part of the effort to relocate our friends and family  on a more suitable environment to save our species."

"We are bound to go extinct anyway," James said.

"Look on the brightside," Arnold said. "they can get other genetics into the mix. Black people, different shades of them." he said with added dramatization. "Not just white people." He shook his fist. "Short people. Tall people." He made great pauses. "Hair, no hair, curly hair, straight hair, long hair, and short hair!"

"And who do you suppose is going to raise the babies?" James asked. "there's only a dozen scalosian left behind."

"Scalosians should start poly familing it," Arnold said. "I have been saying it since childhood and I will say it again: one big poly family."

"I am not sure that would work well," James said. "weird traditions and people mis-use it."

"The idea is not to mis-use it, brother," Arnold said. "it is perfectly reasonable."

"To restore our civilization," James said. "I am not going to be part of it."

"Why?" Arnold asked.

"Kids are for those who want to settle down," James said. "and you do."

"I admit to want that sometime in the future but my sperm will be used," Arnold said.  "and they can deal with it. I am a man of science and you are a man of. . ." he paused, almost unsure what to call it, looking over toward his twin. "making sure. . ." he had a nervous laugh. "that uhh. . " he rubbed the back of his neck. "People don't die."

"And you will have human descendants," James said. "and that is being a doctor."

"Not entirely,"  Arnold said. "genetically, using the profile of what Scalosians looked like hundreds of years ago will come in handy. We can rise, again, and make a impact in this world. Not being out sync with the rest of the galaxy. . ."

"Brother, you still talk like you are rapidly ahead of everyone," James said.

"Our civilization. . ." Arnold said. "I am going to bring them back out of extinction. Just you watch."

"Hahahahahaa," James laughed, patting on his brothers shoulder. "whatever you want."

"Such as finding the correct hospital?" Arnold raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," James said, then he leaped up handing the smoothie to Arnold then went after a Hondurian. "Ma'am!" The short man called. "how many hospitals are there--"


End file.
